Tell Me What You Want by Megan Maxwell

Table of Content

• 1. Unnamed
• 2. Unnamed
• 3. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2012 by Megan Maxwell Translation copyright © 2017 by Achy Obejas All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Previously published as Pídeme lo que quieras by Planeta in Spain in 2012. Translated from Spanish by Achy Obejas. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2017. Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542048569 ISBN-10: 1542048567 Cover design by PEPE nymi
• 4. For all of those in love with passion and passionate about love
• 5. CONTENTS 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 SNEAK PEEK: TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, NOW AND ALWAYS ABOUT THE AUTHOR ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
• 6. 1 My boss is the worst. Honestly, I’m finally going to have to come to the same conclusion as everyone else in the office: that she and Miguel, my friend and colleague, have something going on. But no. I don’t want to think badly of them and get all worked up like the rest of my coworkers. I’ve been working at Müller, a German pharmaceutical, since January. I’m the administrative assistant to the head of the local branch office. Though I like my job, my boss is constantly taking advantage of me. I mean, about the only thing she hasn’t done is tie me to a chair and throw me a chunk of bread to eat. When I finally finish the pile of work my dear supervisor has asked me to have ready for tomorrow, I place the reports on her desk and leave. It’s almost midnight and raining cats and dogs. Perfect. I run to the parking garage, and it is steaming like a bowl of soup. As soon as I press the button to unlock my little León, the car blinks its lights on to welcome me. I quickly jump in. I’m not
• 7. 2 When I get to the office the next day, everything seems fine. I run into Miguel and can’t help but smile. If Miguel and my supervisor only knew what I’d seen . . . “Good morning, Judith.” “Good morning.” Miguel is very attractive. From my first day in the office, he has been wonderfully helpful, and we get along great. Just about everyone at work is drooling over him, but—I don’t know why—he just doesn’t have the same effect on me. Of course, now, knowing what I know and seeing him in action, I can’t help but think of him differently. “Don’t forget we have a staff meeting this afternoon,” Miguel reminds me. “Uh-huh.” He grins, grabs me by the arm, and says, “Hey, let’s take a break. I know you’re dying for some coffee and toast from the cafeteria.” I grin too. He knows me well. Besides being handsome and charming, the guy doesn’t miss an opportunity to be attentive. That, along with his perpetual smile, is Miguel’s greatest charm. When we get to the ninth-floor cafeteria, we step up
• 8. 3 The first person I spot in the cafeteria the next morning is Mr. Zimmerman. I notice him glancing up at me, but I pay him no attention. I have no interest in greeting him. When it comes to bosses, I’ve always thought the greater the distance, the better. And this one’s a smart operator. The truth is, the man makes me nervous. I sense he’s watching me, studying me, from behind his newspaper. When I peek—wham!—I’m right. I down my coffee. I have to get back to work. I end up running into him several times during the day. And when he moves to his father’s old office, which is right across from me and connected to my supervisor’s office by the archive room (a space full of file cabinets), I want to die. He never addresses me, but I feel his gaze. I try to hide behind my computer screen, but it’s impossible. He always finds a way so our eyes meet. When I leave the office that night, I go directly to the gym. One spinning class and time in the Jacuzzi relieve me of the stress I’ve accumula
• 9. 4 I arrive home at seven thirty and say hi to my cat, Curro, who moves very slowly as he comes to greet me. I drop my bag on the couch and head toward the kitchen to give Curro his medication. Poor kitty, he’s unmoved. After I give him some treats, I open the fridge and pour myself a Coke. I’m addicted to Coke . . . addicted. In a few minutes, I put on a Guns N’ Roses CD and sing along to “Sweet Child o’ Mine” as I get into the tub. Wow, what a voice that man has! I sigh when I feel the hot water on my skin. Suddenly, Mr. Zimmerman comes to mind, with his way of talking, and my hands, slippery with soap, slide down my body. I open my legs and touch myself. Oh yes, Zimmerman! When I remember his mouth, and how he outlined my lips with his tongue, I get all tingly. I recall all of him, and it just gets me going. My hands fly over my body until one stops on my right breast. I touch my right nipple with my thumb, and the nipple stiffens. I close my eyes and imagine it’s Zimmerman who is do
• 10. 5 The next day at work, I enter my supervisor’s office to look for some files, and sigh at the memory of what occurred there the day before. I’ve hardly slept. My mind has not stopped thinking about Mr. Zimmerman and what happened between us. Miguel comes in, and together we go have breakfast with Paco and Raúl. The whole time I’m watching the door, waiting for Eric to appear, but he never shows. I’m disappointed. Back in the office, I’m just turning on my computer when my phone rings. It’s the receptionist. She says there’s a young man with a flower delivery, asking for me. Flowers? No one’s ever sent me flowers, and I know very well who’s behind these: Zimmerman. My heart beating a mile a minute, I meet the elevator as the doors open and a young man with a red cap and a beautiful bouquet steps out. As soon as he sees me, he rushes over. “Are you Ms. Flores?” he says. The bouquet is spectacular. Gorgeous yellow roses. The young man looks at me and I nod, finally. He hands me the bouqu
• 11. 6 When I get home, Curro welcomes me. My sister has left a note saying she gave him his medication. I put on something more comfortable and cook up some delicious pasta carbonara. I plop down on the couch to watch TV while I devour it. When I finish, I lie back and fall into a deep sleep. Some time later, a shrieking sound abruptly awakens me. Drowsy, I get up; the sound is insistent. It’s the phone. “Who is it?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. “Jude, it’s Eric.” And then I wake up in a flash. I check the clock. It’s six on the dot. I’m a wreck! My apartment is a disaster. The dirty dish is still on the table, the kitchen is like a swamp, and I look terrible. “Jude, will you open up?” I want to say no, but I don’t dare. I huff and press the button. Quickly, I hang up the phone. I know I have—more or less—a minute and a half. I leap over the chair, and it’s a miracle I don’t smash my face against the table. I’m about to make my next move, when I hear the doorbell. I check myself in the mirror.
• 12. 7 Naked, and with his unyielding body on top of me, I try to regain control of my breathing. I tenderly caress his head and inhale his scent. It’s very masculine and I like it. I notice his mouth on my chest, and I like that too. I want to enjoy this moment for one more second, but he rolls to the side and looks over at me. “Everything OK, Jude?” I assent. He smiles. A moment later, he gets up and walks out of the room. I hear the shower. I’d like to shower with him, but he hasn’t asked me. Minutes later, he’s back, nude and wet. Appetizing. But he surprises me when he picks up his briefs and puts them on. “What are you doing?” I ask him. “I’m getting dressed.” “Why?” “I have an appointment,” he says, a little short. An appointment? He’s going to go and leave me like this? Irritated by his lack of tact after what just happened between us, I put on my panties, bra, and T-shirt. “Are you going for seconds with my supervisor?” I say, unable to bite my tongue. That startles him. “I knew yo
• 13. 8 I’m sleeping like a log when I hear the sound of a door opening in my apartment. I bolt out of bed. What time is it? I peek at the clock on the nightstand. Seven past eleven. I throw myself back in bed. A small bomblike package drops on me. “Hi, Auntieeeeeeeeee!” It’s Luz, my niece. I curse in silence but grab the girl and kiss her sweetly. I adore her. Twenty minutes later and just out of the shower, I walk over to the kitchen in my robe. My sister is making breakfast while my dear Luz crushes Curro in her arms and watches cartoons. I take a seat at the counter. “May I ask what you’re doing at my apartment at eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning?” I ask. She looks my way and places a cup of coffee in front of me. “He’s cheating on me,” she says in a low voice. “I’ve just discovered my jerk of a husband is cheating on me. I spend my life going to the gym, taking care of myself so that I’m always beautiful, and that asshole is cheating on me! I swear to you, I’m going to get the best
• 14. 9 I put on a pair of jeans and a black Guns N’ Roses T-shirt my friend Ana gave me. At one o’clock, just as the phone rings, I put my hair up in a high ponytail. Sure it’s him, I don’t answer. He can call again. Ten seconds later, he does. “Yes?” I answer. “Come down. I’m waiting.” Not even a “good afternoon.” I’m totally taken aback when I come down and find him also wearing jeans and a black shirt and standing next to a red Ferrari. Wow. I love it! “Is it yours?” I ask as I get up close. He shrugs and doesn’t answer. I immediately fall in love with this amazing car. I run my hand tenderly over it as he looks on. “Will you let me drive?” I ask. “No.” “C’mon,” I insist. “Don’t be a party pooper. My dad runs an auto shop. I swear I know what I’m doing.” Eric stares at me. I stare back. He sighs and I grin. Finally, he shakes his head. “Show me Madrid, and if you behave, then maybe later I’ll let you drive it.” That makes me happy. “So, what do you say? Where shall we go?” I think about
• 15. 10 When we leave the restaurant, Eric takes my hand again possessively, and I let him. More and more, I like how he makes me feel, though I’m a bit rattled by his proposal. A part of me wants to reject it, and another part wants to accept it. I like Eric. I like his kisses. I like his touch, and his games. We walk in search of shade in the Royal Palace gardens while we talk about a million things, but nothing very seriously. “Would you like to come to my hotel?” he asks abruptly. “Now?” He looks at me hungrily. “Yes, now,” he whispers in a raspy voice. “I’m staying at the Hotel Villa Magna.” My stomach flips. After just a few seconds of looking back at him, I nod, sure that’s what I want. We go hand in hand back to the parking garage. “Are you going to let me drive?” He looks at me with his disconcerting eyes and brings his lips close to my ear. “Have you been good?” “Very, very good.” “And are you going to sing again?” “You can bet on it.” I hear him laugh, but he doesn’t answer. When
• 16. 11 Laughing, teasing, and touching each other, we drink almost the entire bottle of champagne out on the beautiful and enormous terrace. Madrid is at my feet, and I love the view. I’m still giving a lot of thought to the proposal Eric made at the restaurant. Should I accept or reject it, given what it means? I’m a little tipsy. I’m not used to drinking—and champagne, even less. I watch Eric talk on his cell phone. Dressed in those low-slung jeans and that black T-shirt, he really gets me going. He’s strong and athletic. He’s the type of man you can’t help but stare at, what with his clear blue eyes and short hair. I hungrily check out his whole body and notice the top button of his jeans is undone. It excites me. An instant later, he drops the cell and grabs the ice bucket. He looks my way, his face bright. Hot. I’m very hot. He pours the last of the champagne into our glasses and jams the bottle upside down in the ice. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispers, then kisses my forehead. I
• 17. 12 An hour later, still in bed, we make a meal of the strawberries. To my surprise, next to the strawberries and a new bottle of champagne, there’s a bowl of warm chocolate sauce. What a marvelous idea! My joy delights Eric, who can’t seem to stop smiling. He’s taken on the task of cleaning up the careless drops of chocolate that remain on my lips with his own. The soft contact feels a lot like a sweet kiss. My attention is diverted by a buzzing sound. His cell is open, and he’s just received a message. “Do you always have your phone on?” I ask. “Yes, always. I need to be on top of everything that’s going on with the business.” I pop another strawberry in my mouth. They’re out of this world. “I see you love chocolate.” “I do. And you?” He shrugs and doesn’t respond. “You don’t like sweets?” “Sweets like you, yes.” We both laugh. “You don’t keep sweets at home?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because they don’t really do much for me.” “Do you live alone in Germany?” He doesn’t respond again. I want
• 18. 13 That Sunday, I’m exhausted. I want to forget about Eric, but my vaginal muscles still ache, a constant reminder of everything that happened the day before. At quarter after eleven, I finally get out of bed, and the first thing I do is talk to my dad. It’s a Sunday-morning routine. Besides, today is the Euro Cup Final, and I bet he’s going nuts. “Hello, little girl.” “Hey, Papá.” After we talk for about ten minutes about Curro and the Euro Cup, my dad changes subjects. “Are you all right, my love? You seem down.” “I’m fine, Papá. I’m just very tired.” “Little girl,” he says, trying to stay light, “you have only two weeks till vacation, right?” He’s right. My vacation starts July 15, and the reminder perks me up. “Exactly, Papá. It’s just so close, I can’t help but be impatient.” I can feel him smiling. That comforts me. He had a really rough time when my mom died two years ago, and seeing him do OK is a great relief. “Are you coming by the house for a few days?” “Of course, Papá.” “O
• 19. 14 I’m up at seven thirty Monday morning. Curro is calm. I give him his breakfast and medication. Then I take a shower. Ten minutes later, I get dressed and put on my makeup. I get to the office at eight thirty. I run into Miguel in the elevator, and we high-five over the Euro Cup. We go up to the cafeteria and take a seat at our table to have our coffees. Ten minutes later, I drop the madeleine in my hand when I see Eric come in with my supervisor and two others. He looks impressive in his dark suit and light-colored shirt. I can tell by his dour expression that he’s talking business. When they get to the counter and order their coffees, he sees me. I keep on talking, enjoying my colleague’s company, though I can see in my peripheral vision that they’ve taken a table far from ours. Eric sits in the chair facing me. He looks at me and I look back. Our eyes connect for a fraction of a second; as expected, my body reacts. “Well, well, the bosses have arrived,” says Miguel. “I heard you g
• 20. 15 At seven o’clock the same evening, I find myself sitting on the couch at my sister’s house. My cell buzzes. My friends want me to go to Cibeles to celebrate the Euro Cup win. But I’m not in the mood for a party. I turn off my cell. I don’t want to hear about anything or anyone. I’m too sad. My sister hugs me, but inexplicably, I feel a need for the arms of a certain person. Why? At nine that evening, I turn on my cell and take a call from Fernando. My sister contacted him, and he has offered to come to Madrid to comfort me. I don’t want him to. After talking to him for a few minutes, I hang up and turn off my cell again. I get something to eat and then decide to go home. When I get there and go to the bathroom to wash my face, I hear a knock on the door. Convinced it’s my sister, I open the door and instead find a grim-faced Mr. Zimmerman. What is he doing here? He’s surprised when he sees me, and his expression changes completely. Otherwise, he doesn’t move a muscle. “What’s going
• 21. 16 My alarm clock rings. When I check, it’s seven thirty. I reach to turn it off. I stretch lazily on the bed, and then my brain snaps awake. I look to my right and see Eric is gone. My mind becomes aware of all that has happened, and I quickly sit up. “Good morning,” I hear a voice say. I look toward the door and there he is, fully dressed. I check out his clothes and am surprised that the suit and shirt he’s wearing aren’t what he had on yesterday. He reads my mind. “Tomás brought these over about an hour ago.” “Did your headache go away?” I ask. “Yes, Jude. Thanks for asking.” I reply with a sad smile. I get up without being fully conscious of what a horrible sight I must be. My hair is a mess, my eyes are crusty, and I’m wearing my Tasmanian Devil pj’s. As I walk by him, I get on my toes and give him a peck on the cheek. “Good morning,” I mutter sleepily. I head toward the kitchen, ready to give Curro his medicine, when I see all his things gathered on the counter. I come to a dead
• 22. 17 My supervisor goes nuts when Eric tells her I’m going with him on his visits to the branch offices. Miguel is glad he’s not the one going. My supervisor tries in a thousand different ways to convince Eric not to take me. She argues that I don’t have much experience and that I haven’t been with the company that long; in the end, however, she gives in. Eric’s the boss, so she has to accept it. Check that out! I call my father on Wednesday to explain that I have to take my vacation later than I had planned. He thinks it’s fine and encourages me to do a good job. If he had any idea how this all came about, he’d pack me up in a box and seal it tight. My sister, on the other hand, gets mad at me. For me to leave her alone in Madrid for a few weeks is disconcerting. Who will she tell her troubles to? On Thursday, Eric comes by with his chauffeur at six in the morning. We travel in his private jet, and I’m taken aback by so much luxury. I feel utterly provincial. I look at everything with s
• 23. 18 The meeting goes longer than expected, and we don’t adjourn until eight thirty that evening. Eric’s face is utterly serious. To my amusement, Amanda turns out to be a real ballbuster who puts obstacles in everyone’s path. At day’s end, we get into the limo, with Amanda. During the ride, Eric takes refuge behind a mask of hostility I don’t like at all. He asks me for several documents that he and Amanda look over as they talk. When we get to the hotel, I just want to run to my room and get naked, as Eric has requested. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Eric and me. Eric on top of me. Eric taking me. But my desire soon drowns in a well. “Miss Flores, would you like to dine with Amanda and me?” That stops me cold. That question really should have been phrased, “Amanda, would you like to dine with Miss Flores and me?” My anger sits in my belly. I’m burning inside. But this time, my fire has nothing to do with desire. I feel that woman’s eyes on me. Deep down, I know she’s a
• 24. 19 When my alarm rings, I just want to die. I’m exhausted. I’ve barely slept, thinking about what happened in that bar. Eric’s words, his gaze, and how those men wanted me kept me awake. Finally, at about four in the morning, I took the vibrator out of my suitcase; and after playing around for a while, I managed to quench my desire. Like the day before, Amanda, Eric, and I leave the hotel with a driver who takes us to the office to continue the meeting. I’m wearing slacks today. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday. As soon as he sees me, Eric looks me over, and though he only says, “Good morning,” I can tell by his tone he’s no longer upset. During the hours we’re at the meeting, Eric and I only glance each other’s way a few times. He doesn’t send me emails today, nor does he stop the proceedings for any reason. I’m grateful. At seven o’clock, when we get back to the hotel, I say good night to both him and Amanda and go up to my room. Someone knocks on my door. I open it and am not surp
• 25. 20 Our weekend ends, and on Monday, a plane takes us to Guipúzcoa. Amanda’s short and distant with me, in contrast to how she is with Eric. It really bothers me the way she tries to make sure he doesn’t pay attention to me. And yet, it always turns out badly for her. As the boss, Eric is constantly seeking me out, and it drives Amanda out of her mind. We go from meeting to meeting, and after Guipúzcoa, we’re off to Asturias. During the day, Eric and I work side by side as boss and admin; and at night, we play and enjoy each other. His inclination toward experimentation is innate, and every time we’re alone, he drives me mad with his fantasies, with his way of touching and taking me. He loves to watch when I masturbate with the vibrator he gave me, a whim of his I’m more than happy to indulge. He makes me feel such lust that I want to go back to that swingers’ club and do everything again. When I confess this to him, he laughs aloud, and when he penetrates me, he fantasizes that it’s an
• 26. 21 At the end of the workday, Amanda, Eric, and I go out to the waiting limo together, but I don’t give him a chance to humiliate me again—of my own volition, I take a seat up front with the driver. I can hear them. In fact, I can hear Amanda giggling and laughing up a storm. I keep waiting for the divider to separate us, but this time, Eric doesn’t close off the backseat. He wants me to hear everything they’re saying. He’s speaking in German, and just hearing him sets me off. When we arrive at the hotel, I open my door and step out. I want more than anything in the world to get away from Eric and his companion, but instead, I wait courteously for them to emerge from the limo. When they do, I say good night and take my leave. I practically run to the elevator. When the doors close, I let out a long sigh of relief. The day has been horrible, and I want to disappear. As soon as I open the door to my suite, I toss my briefcase on the beautiful couch. I turn on some music. I let my hair do
• 27. 22 When I wake up in my own bed on Friday, I take a glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It’s seven minutes after one. I’ve slept away the morning. Since my sister doesn’t know I’m back, she hasn’t come over, and for just a few seconds, I’m so relieved. I really don’t want to have to explain anything. As soon as I get up, I look for my cell. Turns out it’s in my bag, on “Silent.” Two missed calls from my sister, two from Fernando, and twelve from Eric. Whoa! I don’t answer any of them. I don’t want to talk to anybody. My anger returns, and I decide to clean house. Whenever I’m really mad, housecleaning is my best therapy. By three in the afternoon, my apartment is upside down. Clothes everywhere, bleach, furniture out of place . . . but I couldn’t care less. I’m the queen of the house. I’m the boss here. Suddenly, I feel an urge to iron. As I sing along with the radio, I put away all the trouble that’s been hammering in my head: Eric. I iron a dress, a skirt, two T-shirts, and a
• 28. 23 I wake up startled. I look at the clock: 4:38 a.m. I’m alone in bed. Where’s Eric? I don’t want him to be gone. I quickly get up. When I come into the living room, I see him putting some drops in his eyes and swallowing something he chases with a glass of water. Then he sits down, puts in my earbuds to listen to my iPod, and closes his eyes. I watch him for a bit and smile. He’s just listening to music. When he hears me, he opens his eyes and gets up. “Are you OK?” “Yes, it’s just that when I didn’t see you, I thought you’d left.” “I don’t sleep much, like I told you.” “I saw you taking something . . . What was it?” “Aspirin. I have a headache,” he says, flashing an enchanting smile. I accept his answer and move to the kitchen. I need a drink of water. When I open the fridge, I see the truffles and decide to have one. I drink my water, put a couple of truffles on a tray, and return to the living room. Sitting on the couch, Eric grins when he sees me. “Hmm . . .” Feeling good, I smil
• 29. 24 After a marvelous Saturday together, I’m awakened around six o’clock on Sunday morning by strange noises coming from the bathroom. I get up and am surprised to find Eric vomiting. When he sees me, he gets angry and tells me to leave and wait in the other room. When he finally comes out, grimacing, he sits on the couch and closes his eyes. “What’s wrong?” “Something must not have gone down right last night.” “Do you want some chamomile to settle your stomach?” With his eyes closed, Eric shakes his head. “Please . . . turn off the light and go to sleep,” he says. “But . . .” “Jude . . . ,” he whispers. He’s upset. Without another word, I vanish and lie down in bed. I try to understand that he’s not feeling well, and the last thing he wants is to have me beside him, asking questions. I go to sleep and wake up around ten o’clock. As soon as I open my eyes, I see Eric by my side. He smiles and seems in a good mood. “Good morning.” “Good morning . . . Are you feeling better?” “Perfect. Li
• 30. 25 Monday I listlessly make my way to the shower. I’m exhausted. I haven’t been able to sleep, thinking about Eric. As I’m getting dressed, my eyes fix on the little lamp. I sit down on the bed and touch the outline of his lips and his name on the shade. For a good while, I stay like that, just contemplating it while thinking about him. I finally get moving. When I arrive at the office, I put my bag on my desk and sense someone coming up behind me. It’s Miguel. “Good morning, gorgeous.” “Good morning.” When he notices my lack of interest, he steps up to me and takes a closer look. “What’s going on?” he whispers. “Did the Iceman overwork you? You look horrible.” His comment animates me. “Yes,” I say, “he’s a real slave driver. Otherwise, I’m fine.” That’s when Miguel notices the bandage on my arm. “What happened?” “I burned myself with the iron,” I say, not offering more of an explanation. Miguel nods. “When did you get back from the trip?” “Thursday night. The rest of the meetings have
• 31. 26 Tuesday I send Eric an email . . . No answer. My supervisor is killing me with work. Any day now, I’ll tell her to go to hell and shoot myself. Fernando calls. When I talk to him, he insists I move up my trip to Jerez.
• 32. 27 Wednesday I send Eric another email . . . He doesn’t respond, again. Today I save my supervisor’s ass. Gerardo, the chief of staff, pays us an unexpected visit, and I have to be pretty quick on my feet to keep him from catching my horny boss and Miguel in a not-quite-professional entanglement in her office.
• 33. 28 Thursday I refuse to write Eric any more emails. But in the end, I can’t help myself; I send him a one-word message: Dickhead!
• 34. 29 Friday My desperation is through the roof. No news. No calls. Nada. Clearly, I was just his plaything for a few days, and now all I can do is forget about him. Plus, my supervisor is on the verge. Today she embarrasses me in front of several colleagues. I don’t tell her to stick it, because I need this job. In the evening, my friend Azu calls, and we agree to go to the movies. We see I Want You, and I end up crying . . . I cry like a baby. It’s beautiful and sad at the same time. I feel just like Ginebra, a misunderstood but hardworking young woman who’s madly in love with a man who has lots of secrets. As we leave, a group of friends who’ve been waiting for us tease me. Nobody quite gets how I could cry like this over a movie, and they suggest we go to Plaza Mayor for a bite to eat. They know that I’ll like that and it’ll lift my spirits. Between edibles, there’s a river of beer, and I finally manage to get my smile back. After that, we go for more drinks, and by four o’clock in th
• 35. 30 I decide to go out with my friends again on Sunday evening. We have a few beers at Asencio’s Bar and dinner at a pizzeria; and after dinner, we go drinking at Amnesia. About an hour later and still at Amnesia, Fernando appears out of nowhere. I’m quite taken aback, but he just grins. “What are you doing here?” “Jerez is very boring without you.” A little freaked out by his sudden cameo, I just stare at him. “Fernando . . . I’ve never lied to you and . . .” He puts a finger to my mouth to shut me up. “I know, but I can’t help it. C’mon . . . let’s go to my hotel. We have to talk.” I say goodbye to my friends and tell Azu I’ll be back soon. I already know what I have to do. The conversation with Fernando will be short and, surely, not very pleasant. When we get to his hotel, the tension is high. I refuse to go up to his room. We go to the bar instead and order something to drink. We talk for an hour, we argue, and we make our feelings known. And when I think everything’s clear and I’m
• 36. 31 When I get to Amnesia, my friends ask about Fernando. I let them know I don’t want to talk about it; they respect my silence and don’t inquire again. My good friend Nacho orders a Coke for me. “Drink . . . It’ll do you good.” An hour later, I’m much more relaxed. Nacho has taken care of making me laugh and has only let me drink Coke. According to him, liquor isn’t a good idea when somebody’s down. While we’re all hanging around and talking, I notice his arm. His tattoo gives me an idea. I grab his elbow and pull him close to me. “Is that new?” “Yes, do you like it?” I nod. I’ve always liked tattoos, and men with tattoos. Eric, of course, has nothing remotely resembling a tattoo. His skin is soft and clean. Nacho, on the other hand, is a tattoo artist and is committed to illustrating his entire body. Suddenly, I have an idea. “Nacho, would you give me a tattoo?” His almond eyes brighten. “Of course. Whenever you want, Judith.” “How much would you charge me?” Nacho smiles. “Nothing, b
• 37. 32 Monday marks the beginning of the workweek. I haven’t heard from Fernando, and I’m almost grateful. Every time I think about what I did, I’m ashamed of myself. I’m a bitch. I took advantage of his weakness because he has feelings for me, and when I got what I wanted, I left him without consideration. I look at my email a thousand times, but Eric does not answer. His silence is his response, and that upsets me even more. I’m such an idiot. My supervisor comes in, and she is especially annoying today. Miguel tries to get her away from me and manages to distract her in the best way he knows how. I keep playing the fool and pretending I don’t know what’s going on. Deep down, I’m grateful Miguel is keeping her busy today. The days pass, and my tattoo barely bothers me. I have followed all of Nacho’s instructions: it’s still under the plastic shield he gave me. There’s still no news from Eric. My supervisor, like always, continues dumping all manner of work on my desk, and I just deal wit
• 38. 33 Two days later, Fernando still hasn’t been back to the house, although he texts to ask how I’m doing and invites me to lunch or dinner. I turn down all his offers. I don’t want to see him. What is wrong with these guys? On the fifth day, I wake up in a better mood. My room is the same as always. My dad makes sure nothing changes, and when I hear his knuckles rapping at my door, I open it to reveal his happy face. “Good morning, little girl.” “Good morning, Papá,” I say. My dad has brought our breakfast, like he does every morning. It’s a little thing we do, our moment of the day to talk things over. We both enjoy it. “Fernando called. He wanted to talk to you and said he’d call later,” he says. I don’t like that, but I try not to change my expression. I don’t want my father to get the wrong idea. But he’s no fool either. “Is something going on with you and Fernando?” “No.” “Then why isn’t he coming by to see you as usual?” I know he wants the truth. “Look, Papá, let’s be honest, bec
• 39. 34 At eleven thirty, my friend Rocío comes by, and together, we go visit her nephew. By one o’clock, we’re back home and in the pool. The water is fresh and cool. Rocío tells me about her life, but she also tries to interrogate me about Fernando. When she sees I don’t want to discuss it, she drops the subject and we talk about other things. At two thirty, my friend heads home, but I linger in the pool. My phone buzzes. It’s Fernando, asking me out to eat. I say no and go lie down in the hammock to listen to music. My cell buzzes again. I curse. I pick it up, but I gasp when I read the message: Would you come and have a drink with me? It’s Eric. My heart beats faster. Eric is in Madrid, and I’m way too flustered. My throat is dry. I take a drink of my Coke. The cell beeps once more. You know I’m not very patient. My hands are trembling so much, I can’t seem to text. Finally, I manage to string some words together: I’m on vacation. I send it, and my stomach gets tied up in knots until th
• 40. 35 When we get to the racetrack, we run into Roberto at the door. He says to wait for my father in the boxes area. I tell Eric how to get there, and he jokes around, accelerating and braking so that I scream and have to hold on to him. When we get to the boxes, there’s no one there. Once we’re off the motorcycle, I pause to admire it. “Do you want me to teach you to drive it?” “Um . . . I dunno.” “Are you afraid of motorcycles?” “No . . .” “Then?” The sun is hitting my eyes, and I squint to see him better. “I’m afraid of falling and wrecking it.” “I won’t let you fall,” he says quite confidently. That makes me laugh. This is Eric, and he’s just so sure of himself. Finally, he pressures me to get back on the motorcycle. I look around and see my father is still nowhere in sight. Eric explains that the brakes are by my left foot; he shows me which hand to use to accelerate, where the clutch is, and how to stop. Then he starts the engine. “Wow, that’s some power!” “Baby, all Ducatis sound
• 41. 36 For six days, mine is a rose-colored world. Eric and my father get along wonderfully, although at first, my father is very angry with Eric because he has rented a villa. In the end, my father understands we’re adults and need privacy. My father’s friends and neighbors quickly nickname Eric “the Frankfurter,” because he’s German, and he finds that amusing. Our way of life in Spain, especially in Andalusia, is so different from the German way of life, and I see constant surprise in his eyes. As the days go by, my father is more and more taken with Eric. He likes him, respects him, and listens to him, which says a lot. In fact, they go fishing together on several afternoons and come back in high spirits. When they’re gone, I escape and go running or riding on my motorcycle. On one of those afternoons, Fernando shows up on his motorcycle. He cuts in front of me. “Are you crazy? What is that guy doing here?” he asks. Irritated, I lift up the protective shield on my helmet. “You’re crossi
• 42. 37 The road trip back to Jerez is fun. Listening to my dad and his friends telling jokes makes me want to die laughing. When we get to town, Fernando insists we go for drinks to celebrate my triumph, but I decline his invitation. When we get to my house, without changing or anything, I unload the motorcycle from the trailer, grab my trophy, and race to the villa, where Eric is waiting for me. When I get to the gate, I call in, and the enormous white gate opens two seconds later. I speed down a path completely bordered by pine trees. In the distance, I see the house, and Eric. It looks like he’s talking on the phone. I gun the engine, jump, scramble, and with a dust cloud spinning around me like a halo, I brake and come to a full stop, raise my trophy high, and proudly look at him. “You missed it. You missed my victory.” Eric doesn’t smile. He turns off his cell, turns around, and disappears into the house. Surprised by his reaction, I jump off my bike and follow him. I can’t stand it w
• 43. 38 The next day, after a night of passion and experimentation in our marvelous villa, Eric and I sunbathe in the nude while planning a getaway to Zahara de los Atunes. Neither one of us has mentioned Fernando again. Eric kisses my tattoo. He loves it. Every time we make love, he looks at me hungrily and exclaims, “Tell me what you want!” It drives me crazy. Eric has suggested we visit some friends of his in Zahara, and I think that’s fine. We can spend a few days with them and then return to the villa, which, for the record, I love. It’s just beautiful here. That night, when Eric takes me home, I find my father in the backyard, sitting on the porch swing, and I go say hi. “This man is good for you, little girl.” “Oh yeah? Why?” I ask playfully as I take a seat next to him on the swing. “He looks at you the same way I used to look at your mother, and I like that. Until recently, I thought Fernando was the right man for you. But after meeting Eric, I’ve changed my mind. You and Eric are
• 44. 39 At nine in the evening, after that stupendous shower experience (which I’m sure everyone in the world heard), we go down hand in hand to the living room. There we find Frida and Andrés making out, but they stop when they see us. We all go to the dining room and sit down around a marvelous table. Eric holds my chair for me and sits beside me. He looks happy. This is his world, and it’s obvious he’s comfortable here. The staff pours us wine and then serves an exquisite lobster. Eric orders a Coke for me. Between laughter and conversation, we finish the first course, and then they serve us the second, a delicious meat dish. After we’re done with the last treat, a heavenly ice cream they offer us as dessert, Frida suggests we go out to the garden. After attending to a phone call, Eric comes and sits by my side. I feel his constant caresses and notice he’s more introspective than he was just minutes ago. Even so, we talk into the wee hours of the morning, when we all decide to turn in. T
• 45. 40 The next morning, I’m alone again when I wake up. Quickly, images from the previous night play like a slide show in my mind, and I flush. I’m also undeniably aroused. Eric’s world is seducing me, and I like it more and more each time. Suddenly, the door pops open. It’s Eric with a breakfast tray. “Good morning, little girl.” That greeting, which is so my father, makes me smile. I sit up. Eric puts down the tray, gives me a sweet peck, and sits by my side. “I’ve brought you orange juice, cold cuts, toast, plum cake, and two cafés con leche. How’s that for a good breakfast?” “The best,” I say. For about ten minutes, we eat and laugh, and when we finish off the tray, he puts it on the floor and sits back down next to me. He is incredibly handsome in a white T-shirt and camo shorts. “How are you doing?” he asks as he takes my face in his hands. “Fine. Why do you ask?” His brow arches. “If you’re checking in because of yesterday, relax, I’m good. I had a good time, and I did it because I
• 46. 41 At eight in the evening, Frida and I decide to get ready. The guys do too. We dress separately so we can surprise one another, and I like that. Frida offers to do my makeup. I don’t wear makeup very often, so I let her. When I open my eyes and look in the mirror, I’m absolutely flabbergasted. That woman there, the one with those amazing eyes, is me? Frida laughs, and we continue getting ready. For the occasion, she has bought a red dress with a deep neckline and lots of fringes. Mine has silver sequins, and it’s loose from my shoulders to my hips. Both dresses go to about the knees and are very sexy and suggestive. We’re wearing skyscraper heels, very long necklaces, feathers in our hair, and, as a finishing touch, gloves that go up past our elbows. We check ourselves in the mirror. “Oh . . . we look like real flappers!” says Frida, laughing. Once ready, we grab the two long cigarette holders we bought and go to meet the guys, who are waiting for us. “You look sensational,” says Eri
• 47. 42 Three days later, we’re still at Zahara de los Atunes, and Frida and Andrés encourage us to stay a few more days at the chalet. Charmed, we accept. Eric receives several calls and messages from someone named Marta, and every time, I have to bite my tongue so I won’t ask, “Who is that woman who calls so much?” On the fourth night, Frida and I decide to go into town for a drink. The guys are playing chess and choose to stay at the chalet. We find a pub called La Cosita. We each order a rum and Coke and sit down to chat at the bar. Talking with Frida is easy. She’s fun, effusive, and engaging. “Have you been married to Andrés for very long?” “Eight years, and every day, I’m more grateful that I ran him over.” “What?” Frida laughs. “I met him because I hit him with my car.” That makes me laugh. “Tell me everything right now,” I demand. Frida takes a sip of her drink and begins. “We were both studying medicine in Nuremberg. And the first day I drove my car to campus, when I went to park,
• 48. 43 Our marvelous days continue, and what happened that night becomes just one more story we tell. We spend our days lying in the sun, talking and enjoying each other’s company. Betta’s messages continue coming in, and I keep trying not to think about them. I can’t. Fernando sends messages too, and Eric has stopped asking about them as well. One morning, the four of us go on an excursion to Tarifa to see the Roman ruins at Baelo Claudia in Bolonia. We eat lunch at a wonderful restaurant, and when we go to pay, we run into Björn and a friend of his. They greet us warmly, and we all go for coffee out on a little terrace. It’s then I learn Björn is a German lawyer on vacation in the south. The other friend, a French guy named Fred, owns a vineyard. For a while, we talk about whatever, but I’m well aware of the looks I’m getting from Björn. So is Eric. “Björn is dying to be with you once more,” he whispers in my ear. “Does that bother you?” Eric smiles and kisses my neck. “No, he’s a good f
• 49. 44 Two days later, after that night of lustful sex we spent in Frida and Andrés’s game room, life goes on. I’m more attached to Eric by the minute, and he seems much more concerned and attentive to me. Anything I might need or want he gives to me before I even ask. Could he be falling in love with me? That morning, Andrés decides to order a paella for our lunch later in the day. At about two in the afternoon, we go down to the beach to eat by a fire. It’s the best paella I’ve ever had. Eric’s phone buzzes constantly, and I see the name Marta as much as I see Betta. I don’t say anything, and he pretty much says everything with his expressions. After the paella, we all decide to sunbathe for a little while. Eric’s phone buzzes again. He finally texts something back, but a little later, he gets frustrated and asks Andrés to take him back to the chalet. His mood has changed, and though he tries to hide it, his face is an open book. I quickly get up and begin to gather our things. When he s
• 50. 45 Two hours later, Andrés comes down to the beach to get us. He’s in a good mood, and as we walk to the car, he tells us Eric is resting. I refuse to ask about anything. I’m pissed enough about the calls from those other women without asking about anything else. When we get to the chalet, I go directly to the pool. Frida and Andrés disappear, and I’m alone. I pick up my iPod and put in my earbuds. I listen and sing along to Jessie James while lying on one of the hammocks. About a half hour later, Eric comes through the door, wearing very dark sunglasses. He stands by my side. I don’t look at him. I’m still mad. We stay like that for more than ten minutes until he pulls out one of my earbuds. “Hello, little girl.” I angrily grab the earbud and put it back in. When he sees I’m not interested in talking, he sits comfortably in one of the hammocks in front of me, crosses his arms behind his head, and just stares at me. “For your own good, stop looking at me,” I say. “Or? Are you going to
• 51. 46 In Jerez, my father doesn’t talk; he just looks at me. It’s been three days since I came home, and I’m just human debris. He knows that I’m not well and something happened between Eric and me, but he respects my silence. My father’s neighbors are a different story. They’re constantly asking me about “the Frankfurter,” and that throws me into despair. Somebody tells Fernando I’m back home. He texts me and, on the third day, shows up at the house. I’m over by the pool, lying on a hammock, when I see him come out to the backyard. “Hi,” he says. “Hi,” I respond. He sits down on the hammock next to mine, but he doesn’t say anything. Neither of us says anything. My father peeks out the kitchen window and sees us, but he doesn’t come near us. He waits. “Are you OK, Judith?” “Yes.” Silence again . . . “I feel bad that you’re here,” Fernando says. “There’s nothing wrong,” I say with a smile. “As you said, I bashed my head against the wall all by myself.” “I’m not happy about that, Judith.” “
• 52. 47 On August 27, I return to work. My supervisor is on vacation, and that helps ease my reentry. The best thing for me is not to have her toxic presence around right now. Miguel isn’t here either, and I miss his jokes. But I’m in such an apathetic mood that I would rather no one look at me or talk to me. Every time I go into Eric’s office or into the archive room, my heart drops to my feet. I can’t help but think about him—the things he said to me, the things we did there—and it’s a great struggle for me not to cry. My friends haven’t gone on vacation, so I see them now and again in the evening after the gym, and we go to the movies or for drinks. My good friend Nacho tries to talk to me, but I refuse. I don’t want to remember what happened. Eric is still much too present in my heart, and until I can find a way to forget him, I know my life won’t get back to normal. On August 31, I get a text from Fernando. He’s in Madrid until September 4 because of a case he’s working on, and he’s st
• 53. 48 From: Judith Flores Date: September 4, 2012, 9:32 a.m. To: Eric Zimmerman Subject: I’m insistent. You once told me the best part of apologizing to me was seeing my face when I forgave you, as well as the possibility of being with me. Don’t you think I might want the same thing from you? A kiss or two or three . . . or however many you want. Jude From: Judith Flores Date: September 5, 2012, 5:40 p.m. To: Eric Zimmerman Subject: Hello, anger. It’s clear you’re angry with me. Fine . . . I accept that. But I want you to know I’m not angry with you. Have a good trip. Even though you’ve decided to have someone else go with you, I hope they treat you well at the branch offices. Kiss, Jude From: Judith Flores Date: September 6, 2012, 8:14 p.m. To: Eric Zimmerman Subject: Guess who. Today, when I talked to my supervisor on the phone, I heard your voice in the background. You wouldn’t believe how it made me feel. At least I know you’re still alive! I hope you’re well. I miss you. Big kisses,
• 54. 49 Today, September 21, is his birthday. Eric is thirty-two, and inexplicably, I’m happy for him. That’s how much of an idiot I am. He hasn’t been by the office again. After his tour of the branch offices, he flew directly to Germany and has yet to step on Spanish soil again. I’m in my own little bubble when the office line rings. My dear supervisor asks me to come to her office. Then she piles on the work. “Also, make a reservation for nine thirty tonight at Moroccio, for ten, in Mr. Zimmerman’s name. It has to be in his name, or they won’t take the reservation, all right?” she says. “Then get me a hair appointment in an hour.” I nod and try not to react. Eric’s in Spain? In Madrid? As I step out of her office, my heart is pounding. I look up Moroccio’s number on the Internet. Finding it, I let out a long breath and make the call. “Moroccio, good morning.” “Hello, good morning. I’m calling to make a reservation for tonight.” “In whose name, please?” “It would be for nine thirty, for t
• 55. 50 At eleven, I make Nacho take me home. Surely, Eric is about to see the note accompanying the cake, and I want to wait for his reaction. At eleven thirty, I’m pacing my house, my heels still on. I’m convinced he’ll respond and be over any minute. At midnight, my desperation is rising. Are they playing around and not ordering dessert? At one o’clock in the morning, frustrated because my plan didn’t work, I throw my heels against the couch; and in that same moment, my cell buzzes. I leap for it. A text. Eric. My hands are shaking. Thank you for the birthday greetings, Mrs. Zimmerman. Mouth agape, I read it again. That’s it. He’s not going to say or do anything else? Now in a rotten mood, I drop my phone and get a Coke. What I want to do is grab my cell, call him back, and read him the riot act. But I won’t. There’s no doubt I have to close the book on Eric. Drained, I take off my pretty dress, let down my elegant bun, and strip off the suggestive undergarments I bought this afternoon.
• 56. 51 This Saturday, sex, kisses, and caresses reign over all. Every time we try to talk about our relationship, we end up naked and panting wildly. Eric is my addiction, and I realize I’m his. We can’t be together without touching, and since we want each other, we just let ourselves go and give in to our unfettered lust. Sunday, it’s more of the same. But then, as we’re both making the bed, Eric says, “Jude . . . I need to talk to you, remember?” “Yes.” I’m really scared of whatever it is he feels he needs to clarify. “It’s important; I owe you this explanation.” “You owe it to me?” I ask, surprised. “Yes, love . . .” His gaze is unsettled again. He’s having a hard time looking me in the eye, and that bothers me. Eric sits beside me at the foot of the bed. “Listen, there’s something you need to know and which I haven’t shared with you yet. But I want you to know that if I haven’t told you, it’s because . . .” “Oh Lord, you’re not married, are you?” “No.” “Are you marrying Betta? Marta?”
• 57. 52 The week starts out intense, and I try to process everything he’s told me. Betta? I’m not interested. I don’t care. I know Eric doesn’t want anything to do with her. I believe him, though I haven’t wanted to explore too deeply what he told me about his father. Now I understand why he doesn’t talk about him and why he omits him from everything. As far as his nephew goes, I understand, though the situation concerns me. If something were to happen to my sister and brother-in-law, I have no doubt Luz would come live with me. I’d take care of her and would not let her suffer for all the tea in China. Living in Germany is not something I’ve ever considered. But for Eric, I’d do it. I’d rather live with him than be bitter without him. These days, Eric spends more time in Germany. His nephew needs him. When he’s in Madrid and the alarm goes off at seven thirty, Eric is already up. He comes to me, kisses me tenderly, and I love it. We can’t go to the office together. People will gossip, and
• 58. 53 When I leave the office at six o’clock, I get into my car and head home. As soon as I get there, I drop my bag on the couch, take off my suit jacket, and hear the front bell ring. It’s Eric, and he pounces on me with kisses. “Degenerate,” he says as he takes me in his arms and gives me a slap on the butt. “What are you doing, getting me all hot and bothered at the office?” I laugh, and he plays with my neck. “You have to pay for making me so hot all day.” I’m still laughing as he unbuttons my skirt and lets it fall. Freed, I bolt and run through the apartment. He’s after me, laughing too. In my bedroom, I leap onto the bed and start jumping up and down like a little kid. He grins as he unbuttons his shirt and then his pants. “Go ahead . . . Jump . . . Just wait till I catch you . . .” Happy right now, I jump off the bed and run toward the dining room. Eric grabs me in the hallway. He circles my waist and throws me against the wall. He presses his mouth to mine, and his tongue probes
• 59. 54 When I get to work on Thursday, I’m surprised to see Miguel gathering his things. “What are you doing?” “Packing my stuff.” “Why?” Miguel sighs and shrugs. “They’re not renewing my contract, and ever kindly, they’ve informed me this is my last day.” I’m stunned. “Wait a minute. Have you talked to Mr. Zimmerman?” “No. What for? He doesn’t like me; you know that.” “Listen . . . You have to talk to him,” I insist. “Miguel, there’s unemployment left and right. Have you talked to my supervisor? You get along well with her . . .” “She’s the one who told me they weren’t renewing me,” Miguel says. That chaps my ass. How can that witch not renew his contract after she’s been his lover? “And you’re not going to do anything to help her change her mind?” Miguel just stares at me. “Listen, Miguel. I know you’ve been sleeping with her. Hell, I was in the archive room a few of the times you did it in her office.” Miguel blanches. “Are you kidding me? You knew?” “Yes, which is why I don’t understan
• 60. 55 Come Monday, Eric has to fly to Germany. He asks me to go with him, but I refuse. At first, he gets mad, but I make him understand that no matter how much we may want to be together twenty-four hours a day, his nephew won’t be amused by having to share him with me. That same Monday night, he calls me, and we talk for more than three hours. He tells me how much he misses me, and I tell him how bored I am without him. Monday after work, I decide to go to the gym. Since Eric’s been around, I hardly ever get to go. A good run on the track and a spinning class help relax me. When I’m done, I’m drenched in sweat. When I get to the locker room, I strip off my clothes and hit the showers. Refreshed, I glance over at the Jacuzzi. Seeing no one around, I decide to take a dip for a few minutes. “Judith?” I hear a voice behind me. A woman approaches me. “Hi, don’t you remember me?” Her face looks familiar, but I can’t place it. “Marisa, Marisa de la Rosa,” she says. “We met last summer in Zahar
• 61. 56 Eric’s mother turns out to be witty and enchanting. During the meal, she laughs and jokes around constantly and makes me feel as if we’ve known each other our entire lives. She tells me stories about Eric when he was little; and horrified, he tries to temper her, though he’s also obviously delighted. I love watching him interact with her. It’s clear he loves her very much, and that makes me very happy. When Eric’s cell buzzes, he gets up to take the call. “Thank you,” Sonia says as soon as he’s out of earshot. “For what?” I ask, surprised. “For making my son smile. It’s been years since I’ve seen him so happy, and that makes me very grateful. I see how he looks at you, how you look at him, and it makes me want to get up and shout, ‘Finally! Finally, my son is letting someone love him!’” “He’s been a tough nut to crack, I assure you of that!” I tell her, even as her words touch me. “Oh, Jude . . . what I don’t understand is how a young woman with so much vim and vigor can stand him!
• 62. 57 Living without Eric is difficult for me. I’ve gotten used to his hanging out at the office and strolling through my apartment, so being alone throws me off balance. Before leaving, he wanted to tell my supervisor the truth about our relationship, but I asked him not to. I hate gossip, and I know our relationship will provoke a lot of talk. The day of Eric’s surgery, Sonia calls and tells me that everything has turned out fine but Eric is in a foul mood. He’s a lousy patient. After a few days, I ask Sonia about the possibility of my going to Germany. She consults Eric and he refuses. He doesn’t want me to see him not doing well. I try to convince her, but she reminds me that she already told me her son is a lousy patient and adds that at moments like these, it’s best not to go against his wishes. Desperate, I call my dad and tell him what’s happening. As best he can, he calms me down and tells me to go to bed and get some rest. When I arrive home the following day, I find my father a
• 63. 58 Once I go back to the office, I find that my life returns to relative normalcy. The difference now is that Eric is by my side, and I love his company and the way he spoils me. He keeps the suite at the hotel, though he spends many nights at my apartment. But we both still need a place of our own, in spite of how much we love each other’s company. Each day, he wants to tell everybody I’m his girlfriend, but I continue to refuse. I don’t know why, but I don’t want anyone to know. We talk a lot about Germany, though. I can see in his eyes that he needs an answer, but I still don’t know what to do. He doesn’t pressure me, which I appreciate. Eric’s been back several days now. Every morning, I ask him how he’s doing, and his answer is always the same: “Good.” He hasn’t had any more headaches, and I haven’t noticed him experiencing nausea, and that helps me relax. One morning when I’m in the cafeteria having breakfast with Miguel, I see Eric come in. His look tells me he doesn’t approve o
• 64. 59 When I arrive at the office the following morning, I’m not surprised to find Eric working. I quietly put my things on my desk. My office phone rings. Eric wants to see me. “Good morning, Miss Flores.” “Good morning, Mr. Zimmerman.” Then I notice Julio Merino, a young guy who works with the company, sitting at a round table in Eric’s office, surrounded by papers. “Mr. Merino,” says Eric, leaning back in his chair, “could you get me some coffee, black?” The young man stands up. “Yes, Mr. Zimmerman . . . right away.” As he walks by me, he rolls his eyes, and I try to contain my laughter. “How’d you sleep?” he asks once we’re alone. His tone is much softer. “Terribly. I missed you.” I notice his lips curving into a smile. “Surely not as much as I missed you. Tonight you’ll sleep with me at my hotel.” “Great.” I’m delighted by this suggestion. This might be a good time to tell him what happened yesterday. “Are you up for playing with company?” My stomach tightens. It’s been a good while
• 65. 60 The next morning, Eric and I arrive at the office separately. He’s very emotional because of my impending transfer to Germany, as am I. Luckily, I have clothes at his hotel, and I’m able to dress there and not go to the office with the same clothes from yesterday. I haven’t yet explained to him what happened with those women the other day and have now decided to keep it to myself. In fact, nothing happened, and if I tell him, he’s just going to get angry. As we do every morning, Miguel and I go have our coffee before starting the workday. I’m in a good mood, and I decide to sit by the door. I know that Eric will be here any minute and he will search the place for me. Ten minutes later, the man with whom I’m completely in love comes through the door and looks for me. He then takes a seat across from me. Miguel and I continue chatting while I sneak peeks at Eric having breakfast. The elegance with which he butters his croissant has me totally hypnotized. Our eyes meet a couple of time
• 66. 61 On Friday, Eric invites me to dinner at a fantastic restaurant. We agree on a mid-January date for my move. My apartment is mine. When I moved to Madrid, my father helped me buy it. After my conversation with Eric, I decide not to sell or rent it. It will be a place I always have whenever I want to visit Madrid. That night, in spite of the happiness I see on Eric’s face, I can tell he has a headache. I’ve already seen him take two pills. But he doesn’t want to talk about it. After dinner, as we’re leaving the restaurant, we run into some friends of his on the street. Eric turns to me. “Would you like it if I invite Victor to come back to the hotel to play, the three of us?” My heart pounds. I give my consent, and Eric grins. “Let me talk to him. I’m sure he won’t say no.” Eric and Victor step away from me and the girl Victor is with. Her name is Loli, and she’s quite charming. We talk while I watch the two men. Suddenly, I see Eric take a call, and his smile disappears. “We have to
• 67. 62 There is a noise. I’m startled. It’s the phone. I leap from the bed. I look at the time. It’s 5:28 in the morning. Frightened, I run to answer. Any call at this hour can’t be good. “Yes?” “Honey . . . it’s me.” My sister? I’m gonna kill her! But then I hear her crying, and I’m terrified. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?” “I’m not doing well . . . not well at all. I’ve had a fight with Jesús. He left the house at nine o’clock last night and look what time it is and he hasn’t come home . . .” She cries, and I try to calm her down. “Where is Luz?” “She has a sleepover at a friend’s house. Please, I need you to come over.” “Of course . . . I’ll be right there.” I hang up and sigh. My sister and her hysterics . . . Thank God it’s Saturday and I don’t have to go in to work. I think about Eric. Should I call him? It’s possible he’s awake, but in the end, I decide not to bother him. Knowing him, he’s probably still angry because of what happened yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, wash my f
• 68. 63 I’m on medical leave for three weeks, and I’m using the time to give my apartment a last cleaning and to pack up all the things I want to take to Germany. Eric wants to buy me a safer car, but I refuse. I love my Seat León. My insurance has it fixed in record time, and I imagine it’s because Eric has been all over them. The car comes back like new. Eric takes care of me with great tenderness and helps me with my packing. I’m not taking a lot of things, just clothes, photos, books, and my music. I want the rest to stay here; as time goes by, I’ll take it with me little by little. The day I return to work, everybody in the office just stares at me. I’m an object of great curiosity. They know I’m the big boss’s girlfriend, and they do what I hate so much: gossip! “Now that you’re the boss’s girlfriend, will you still have breakfast with me?” Miguel asks, but in jest. “You dweeb . . . Of course.” On the way to the cafeteria, he asks me about my health. I tell him about my accident, and
• 69. 64 At the beginning of December, Eric’s mother shows up in Madrid to see with her own eyes how her son is doing. According to what she tells me, little Flyn was going to come with her, but at the last minute, one of his pranks made it impossible, and so she left him in Germany with his nanny. Her happiness on seeing Eric is obvious and more so when she talks about our coming move. One night, when I arrive at a restaurant and see my father, my sister, and my brother-in-law waiting for us, I’m moved beyond words. Eric has organized it all with the utmost discretion. He wants our families to meet and our relationship to be totally official. I like the surprise even more when my father kisses me with approval. “He knows what you’re worth,” he whispers to me. What I feel on hearing my father and seeing his proud face is indescribable. He wants the best for me, and he knows Eric makes me happy. Andrés and Frida also join us, and when I think there’s no room for anyone else, along comes Marta
• 70. 65 The following morning, when I wake up, I’m alone and naked in our enormous bed. I see the suit Eric was wearing last night thrown carelessly on a chair, and my dress not far from it. I smile and sigh. For a while, I just lie there and do a mental review of the last few months with him. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. I don’t want the ride to ever end. My cell buzzes. It’s my father, telling me he’s going back to Jerez. I call him to say goodbye, and I smile, recalling how happy he was last night. He and Eric have made a good connection, and that’s very important to me. We agree to see each other at Christmas. I’ll say goodbye to him over the holiday and then fly out to my love in Germany. After I hang up with him, I leave my cell on the nightstand. I see the jar of lube, and I close my eyes. I still can’t believe I’ve done the things I’ve done. Never in my life would I have imagined having with any other man the kind of lust-filled sex I have with Eric. Every day I understand m
• 71. A SNEAK PEEK AT TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, NOW AND ALWAYS As soon as I leave the office, I race home as if someone put a rocket up my ass. When I look at all those moving boxes, my heart just shatters. Everything’s gone to shit. My trip to Germany is canceled, and for the moment, my life is as well. I grab a few things and stuff them into my backpack before Eric can find me. My cell buzzes and buzzes and buzzes. I refuse to pick up. I don’t want to talk to him. Ready to disappear, I go to a nearby restaurant and call my sister. I make her promise she won’t tell anybody where I am, and we agree to meet. I spot Raquel when she arrives, and I call her name. She responds, and after giving me a hug because she knows I need it, she listens. I tell her only part of the story, because I know otherwise I’d leave her speechless. I omit the part about sex, but Raquel is Raquel, and when things don’t add up for her, she starts in. “You’re crazy!” “Eric is a good guy!” “How could you do this?” In the e
• 72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2015 Carlos Santana Megan Maxwell was born in Nuremberg, Germany, to an American father and a Spanish mother. She grew up in Spain, where she still lives, and is one of the country’s most prolific and well-known romance writers. She began writing stories for her friends and family, who encouraged her to try to publish. It took twelve years for the release of her first book, but since then, she’s written many more as well as contributed to anthologies and magazines. She writes romantic comedy, chick lit, fantasy, erotica, and children’s stories. Among her many awards is the Seseña International Prize for Romance Literature.
• 73. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR Photo © 2017 Megan Bayles Achy Obejas is the author of the critically acclaimed novels Ruins, Days of Awe, and three other books of fiction. With Megan Bayles, she edited Immigrant Voices: 21st Century Stories. She also edited and translated the anthology Havana Noir, and has translated Junot Díaz, Wendy Guerra, Rita Indiana, Adam Mansbach, Ena Lucía Portela, and many others. In 2014, she was awarded a USA Ford Fellowship for her writing and translation. Born in Havana, she wrote The Tower of the Antilles, her most recently released collection of stories. For more info, go to www.achyobejas.com.